RSS
 

Archive for the ‘Love Life’ Category

My First Boyfriend

19 Feb

I don’t make rational decisions when I’m depressed or bored. Mirrors fall on my head When I’m bored. I once kicked the bottom of a mirror and it fell on me, leaving a gash. I am a hazard to myself and I think to others when I’m either of those things.

I’m not chronically depressed. When I get depressed it’s usually because things that I had no part in making decisions in have gotten out of control in a way that isn’t making me happy and I’m not willing to acknowledge how much I hurt inside. Because if I do, I have to face that I can’t control the situation I am in. I feel I can’t be honest about how much I really hurt. If I face that hurt, then I will realize how I can’t get out. When I feel trapped, it gets much, much worse. When I want to go somewhere and no one will let me, I sink fast. I like moving forward, so it’s hard for me to stay still.

I get inertia because I am usually wrapped in indecision. This is a thing that does happen chronically. It sometimes takes me a lot longer than others to figure out what I want to do because I approach almost all problems intuitively rather than sensory. In this way I stay stuck and then spring forward past the other people in the same situation.

In College, as I have stated, I was depressed. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I was trying to please my parents and not myself. There was a guy who had a crush on me. I was so wrapped up in my issues that I didn’t notice. I never had the confidence in myself that I was pretty enough for anyone to date. I really didn’t want to date anyhow until I was ready for marriage. I always thought it a waste in High school to date for the sake of it. Perhaps because my emotions ran high. I turned down a guy because I thought it was a joke in High School.

One day when I was looking forward to the end of College, he took me around the campus. I blithely thought that it was just two friends hanging out together, but to him it wasn’t. He said he liked me.

I was not rational. My next move caused me tremendous guilt. I really didn’t view him romantically, but I thought I should give him a chance. Maybe it was my High School experience and people asking why I wouldn’t give that other guy a chance.

This guy was Japanese. He wore glasses. He was nervous often and had dry lips.

I learned he liked me because I was good at cooking. We started a long distance relationship, but I really didn’t know him all that well. I wasn’t really thinking about a relationship like that. I was thinking about how to get out from the trap I felt I was in.

We ran up phone bills. He said he didn’t trust computers. I had been using computers before I could speak English.

He called every day and complained about his parents. Particularly his father. I started to notice he cut me off when I spoke. I didn’t like it. I tried to address it, but he ignored it. I thought it might be because I didn’t speak Japanese fluently.

I was in love with the idea of being in love. But I was not in love.

His e-mails were the same. I wrote long at the time, not knowing how to be punctual about what I wanted to say.

I feel guilty now because as a joke, I talked about marriage–I copied what my High School friends did. He took it seriously. I tried to explain it was playing around, but he didn’t understand. He started to plan our life together. I felt guilty about joking about marriage like that. I felt that I was choking. He kept saying how he wanted to go to Australia and that I would stay and home while he earned money and how many children *he* wanted. And how he wanted me to meet his parents. He kept saying how his parents didn’t like Koreans. He viewed me as American though.

I cut the line when he started pressuring me for sex and wouldn’t stop. I broke up with him. I tried by phone, but he was not there. I wrote him an e-mail, feeling even more guilty that I had to do it this way. When he didn’t understand, I tried to say why, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t. So I blocked his e-mail.

I felt extreme guilt from this. I stopped helping people get over their personal issues. I stopped taking on everything that people gave me. I gave them limitations. I mercilessly in my anger and grief blocked the people who were pulling me down further after they wouldn’t stop. I put the breaks on the eager-to-please as much as I could manage at the time.

This guilt probably contributed to why I stayed so long with my next boyfriend. That situation was ten times worse.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

My Second Boyfriend

19 Feb

He was cute and I thought he was sweet. I’d met him once before and people said that they knew him. I really was attracted to him. In that teenager way I’d made a list of the things I wanted in a boyfriend. There was nothing wrong with anything on the list, but it felt wrong. I knew it was wrong. But years of being told that intuition was fluff, I ignored it. I didn’t listen to myself… and this is why I got into so much trouble.

After years of having romantic notions tucked safely in my head from reading L.M. Montgomery, seeing romance movies and not having a positive model from which I could draw for what romance was like, I thought that this was it. My Model was my mom needling my Dad into doing things and my Dad rolling over and accepting it. My model was also the idea that love conquers all. It was also from the same notions that I saw when I was born, but couldn’t quite physically remember. I didn’t know that this could be dangerous.

I was on an internship in Los Angeles. I hadn’t really gotten a firm confidence of who I was. I knew who I was, but I still wasn’t sure of who I was. I was finding myself evolving into more of myself in a way that I hadn’t had before. All these options were opening up to me. This internship at the time gave me that sort of confidence to finally be myself and feel like I wasn’t being judged for it. I met a Korean friend there for the first time and I knew what it was to be Korean for the first time in my life. My confidence wasn’t being squashed by others who told me that logic was the only way and I was connecting to my spiritual self. I was connecting to my subconscious, my inner being, my intuition, my inner child and what made me, me for the first time in my life. I felt free.

One day an ex-employee came to the office. I was attracted to him, and because I had let myself free, I had brought down all my walls, all my guards and I had broken them. College didn’t really matter anymore. My Mom was across the country and though she would call and keep at me about it, it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Here was a guy that I liked. But he left. And then I pushed it out of my mind and forgot.

My Korean friend held a Halloween party. I think she was remotely aware that I was attracted to this guy. Perhaps she was hooking me up.

I’m kind of strange. I like going to parties, but I hate small talk. I want to always talk about real things, like the state of the world, global warming or whatever it was. So I went, but I was really bored.

I was watching TV when the same guy came in. He reminded me that I’d met before. We started flirting. I had cataloged everything I wanted in a guy. I was attracted to him and I wasn’t used to being confident enough that guys would be attracted to me. I knew in some part that he would be my boyfriend. But an irking feeling came up in me. I wasn’t used to it yet, but it was my intuition. My intuition without having words or meaning told me this was wrong I shouldn’t choose this person. But I silenced my intuition, because my intuition was fluff, it was what my mom said wasn’t real. I pushed it down inside of me.

He took me home and not being used to the overwhelming emotions I got out of the car. It was late and I didn’t want to stay. Perhaps I should have ended it there.

About six months later my Korean friend was going to get married. I’d gone back to Buffalo. I agreed to come back for the wedding. She asked me if I had a boyfriend. I was a bit bewildered by this.

I met that guy again in the parking lot. We hit it off. It was fun. And then on the way to my Aunt’s house, he awkwardly asked me for a date. By now, my intuition was telling me this was wrong. And I was telling it back, “Why? Why is it wrong?” and ignoring it, I went forward. Meeting 3 times must be some sort of destiny, right? Meeting someone who had chivalry must be a good date.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

My First Real Date

19 Feb

I never dated my first boyfriend. I mean we talked on the internet and on the phone and I half wondered if I should even consider him my boyfriend, but we never really went out on dates. He never spoke of his intentions towards me when we were together. I probably would have glibly said yes to anyone who wanted to walk me back to the dorm room male or female at the time. I was too distracted.

But this was different. A date was a date. He’d asked me out. And since I’d avoided dating in High School, I really didn’t know what a date was beyond the fictional world. The date was fun, but I had a problem. I didn’t speak for most of it. It was as if my right side of the brain could finally kick into gear and my left side of the brain was off in lala land. Emotions gripped me harder than before because I had turned them off for so long that it was a shock to even experience anything like this. I hadn’t found that balance in myself, but I didn’t know that was what was happening. And perhaps this is what made it all the more dangerous.

I wasn’t listening really and my emotions kicked in. We spent my time in LA mostly together. If I’d been processing information, maybe I would have stopped it, but I wasn’t thinking. The first night we kissed and made out.

I returned to Buffalo, having romantic notions in my head from years of reading 19th century novels, I took kissing seriously. A kiss to me is probably what sex is worth today. I really didn’t want it to end. And I really disliked being around my mom more and more. I needed to get out of there. I decided to move to Los Angeles. And this was the beginning of the trap I set for myself.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

The Trap

19 Feb

My boyfriend reminded me of Appa in many ways, though I didn’t know why. It wasn’t anything physical about him, it was something in his personality. I didn’t know that what I was trying to grasp was a shattered vase with some of the pieces missing from it. My images of Appa, remembered by my subconscious were incomplete images. I only had one image of Appa in my conscious mind at the time.

I’d always admired Appa more than anyone. I had always held him up on a 5 year old’s pedestal of what a person should be like. I modeled myself after his expectations for years. I became who I was because I wanted to be like him. I saw him as a deeply moral man. I saw him as a man that could do no wrong. And from the five year old’s eyes I wanted to have the power to heal all his hurts and his pain. Because this was the last thing I had of Korea that I could hold onto. I told no one of this memory. I told no one, because I was used to them being taken away from me. From this image of holding his hand and wanting to heal the his hurts, I took this incomplete image into myself and how I treated the world.

This man validated much of my feelings and emotions which was the first time I felt that in my life. He believed in things like intuition and even things like ghosts and spirituality. Having those things validated inside of myself felt good. I had to admit it. He gave a sort of validation that I’d been craving. Because in some part I knew Appa gave me that validation. And I sucked on it.

I moved in with my Aunt in LA for a few months until I could find a place of my own, but I was lost in how one should find a job, how to find an apartment and I didn’t know what one should do to achieve those things. I floundered and I couldn’t find a place to live. So the time was up at the end of the month. I didn’t have a job, the savings my parents had given me was running out, but I was determined to make it. I knew instinctively the next step was to put pressure on myself and move into a hotel. My boyfriend objected.

I repeated it again and again, but he kept after me, and like my Dad I rolled over. I moved in with him, even though I knew that I shouldn’t do so. I tried for the first 2 months to pay him rent, but he refused. I tried to find my own place, but I couldn’t figure out how I should do so. I became stuck.

Without realizing it, he was starting to wear me down. He told me I was clumsy, that I should know certain things and started wearing on my self esteem. In turn I raised his self esteem because I felt that I should heal his hurts and his wounds, even the intangible ones that I could not heal. And most of all I was excepting this as normal. The more I stayed in that apartment with him, the more that I accepted that whatever happened was normal.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

My Definition of Normal

19 Feb

My boyfriend wore down my confidence a lot. It wasn’t direct, so I couldn’t recognize it. He would say general statements about Mexicans, and other ethnic groups. I would object to it and he would get amused by my angry face. He often said that he thought it was amusing and that would only egg him on. I said to him that I didn’t like it. He said, “I don’t believe those things, but stereotypes are there for a reason.” I often perversely thought this was because he was white.

This was an everyday occurrence, so I started to accept this as normal.

I also got a job at Starbucks. Starbucks was the wrong job for me. I am not good at customer service. I have too much perception ability and I take comments and things said to me too personally. With this combination and not being able to use my intellect I ran into problems. My self esteem plummeted. I became restless in this job and I couldn’t smile at the customers. It was like watching a ticking time bomb and wondering which of the time bombs were real and which were fake. My adherence to the rules of Starbucks and the strictness of following orders constantly got me into trouble. Because I’d followed the ghost of Appa so much I wasn’t willing to see when one should adhere or not adhere to the rules. I got used to having my self-esteem beaten down. I got used to my boyfriend saying this wasn’t a good job for me. I got used to him saying I couldn’t complain about my job. And I got used to feeling like crap. I was told by my Mom and by my boyfriend this was normal. Jobs were supposed to be miserable.

My boyfriend and I would argue. It was because he would often ignore me. It was also because I craved affection in many ways that he wasn’t willing to give me. He didn’t want to hold hands at the bank. He didn’t like public displays of affection. We were not allowed to kiss in public and he didn’t want me holding his arm at the bank. But I was searching for this affection. The more that he didn’t give it to me, the more I craved it. Maybe because he reminded me of Appa, but I couldn’t make out Appa’s image. I wanted to know what Appa looked like, but I couldn’t remember. I was getting used to craving this affection. This, too, became normal.

My boyfriend would often ignore my hunger and my basic needs too. He did book readings for children. And he would tell me before we got home that it was sad if he had to eat alone, but he would get mad at me for wanting to leave early. Sometimes he would hang out in the store for hours on end. He would say to me that he liked it when I came and because I wanted to please him, I gave in. I came to his book readings and would starve. I would tell him that I was hungry. It was 8 o’clock and I had been working for most of the day so I was feeling grumpy. He ignored me. He got upset at me. We argued a lot about it. It was only pressing if he was hungry and grumpy. I accepted this, too as normal.

My boyfriend’s definition of a good woman was a perfect housewife that brought home a paycheck. This lacked quite a bit of reality because he refused to wash dishes and would get upset at the fact that I cooked and used dishes but at the same time would expect me to cook, or we had to eat fast food. I was always being economical and wanted to make large batches of food and eat that, but he would say he was getting sick of that food. Women, according to him were supposed to cook, clean, do the dishes, and work a full time job. The man’s job was to work and watch TV and buy things for himself. I got rightfully pissed at him for this definition of women. I told him several times that he couldn’t have it both ways and since I had to work and be on my feet for 8 hours that he’d have to do some of the housework. I am not good at cleaning, I know that. I can’t actually see my own messes. But he wasn’t willing to do it either. He would berate me for not doing any cleaning at all. The harder I tried to help out with the cleaning, the more he said I was doing it wrong, but then he wouldn’t do it himself because he sad work was hard. When he did do a chore, it was only once in a blue moon and he would shoot me a look of resentment or voice his resentment for having to do so at all. But because this was a slow process of discovery and not overnight, I didn’t realize this was a shoddy definition of women. And because my self esteem was constantly being put down I never had time to step outside of myself and look at the situation from a critical eye. So I accepted this as normal.

The list goes on like this. Where I accepted things as normal. It was not an overnight process, it took months or even years for this to develop. And because I couldn’t see an option on how to get out of this situation and because my pride was so strong, I let it go.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

Why I stayed…

19 Feb

I think a lot now on why I wanted to please my boyfriend so much. Why I let all of the warning signs pass me by, why I didn’t hold onto my sense of self. I don’t think I can blame anything in particular. Perhaps it was trying to find images of Appa, perhaps it was because my adoptive parents didn’t give me the kind of love I was looking for, perhaps I was in love with the idea of being in love. But whatever it was, the harder I tried, the more I let myself be swallowed up. The more I stayed, the more I found myself being more and more lost.

I ignored the dreams that told me this wasn’t right. I ignored the fact that I would wake up crying without knowing why. I ignored that despite being with him for a year he said he couldn’t love me.

But there was a trap set in my mind. My choices were to go home and have my parents put me down for “failing” or find my way out on my own. But the thing that I didn’t realize was the longer I stayed with this man, the more that I was allowing myself to be swallowed whole.

I would call my Mom and she would constantly be after me for not going to college. I told her that it hurt. I cried over the phone. I yelled at her, but she ignored me. I had told her constantly how much it hurt in person, over the phone, but it was a compulsive act for her. She compounded things by saying that sometimes she felt like she should divorce my Dad. (She never did… but it didn’t help my situation any). My already shattered self esteem was plummeting more because I felt like I couldn’t go home, especially as she was saying things like she was glad to have an empty house now. I felt horrid calling her, but guilty not calling her.

On the other end, my boyfriend was starting to put me down and it was slowly starting to cycle. I’d only learned from television and everyone around me that abuse was only physical. If the person didn’t hit you directly, then it was not abuse. So I let things get bad because it was not “abuse” because no one had told me that emotional abuse was abuse too. Teachers hadn’t spotted or protected me from the teasing. My parents had put me down or neglected me. I didn’t know the difference between the two, so I let it go. I had no control group to base anything on.

I can’t blame anyone for this. But the learning curve was a tough one. My subconscious started to wake up to the fact at some point and started sending me warning signs through my dreams. But still, because I was trying to run away from the words “failure” from both my boyfriend and from my parents, and the ghost of the parents I couldn’t quite remember, I stuck it out.

I would have dreams of trying to climb up hills and not being able to get over it. I would always slip down the hill and fall. And like before in college I started to hear songs that weren’t playing around me when I was conscious. I could pick up melodies. My subconscious is strange in that I can’t consciously make music for the life of me, but when I feel horrid or depressed, I’ll get various music and melodies in my head.

I ignored all of them. Because the option was that I was a failure. I was told that much every day by everything around me. If it wasn’t from my boyfriend, then it was from my parents. If it wasn’t from my parents it was from my job. I had no scraps of self confidence left to find a way out. Since my boyfriend was around more, I started to crave more and more some sense of affection. Some kind of affirmation that I was worth something. But he couldn’t give it to me. He instead sucked it from me by putting me down or demanding that I give it to him.

This was most apparent at our Year anniversary. I bought him an expensive gift. He bought me a card. I bought him a gift that would help him get a job. He didn’t get a job at all. I admitted to him that I loved him. He said he didn’t feel that way. A month later we fought. I was ready to leave and break up, but he took it as a cue to say “sorry” and tried to “make it up to me.” Then we went through the honeymoon phase where I was flinching and waiting for him to yell at me. I didn’t even realize it. Then he’d get mad and then throw a tantrum. He’d apologize and it would cycle again.

It was only when I spent 1,000 dollars on him that he finally said he loved me. He got an allergy to these moth products. I read the back of the labels, which is a compulsive thing for me to do. I read it aloud for him and told him, we shouldn’t get more than one of them. He ignored me. He later said that he didn’t heard me.

He got a severe allergy that sent him to the hospital. Through my generosity, I used all of my saved up money on hotels until the apartment could be cleared up of the gas that the moth poison was putting out. I was the one that pointed out what it could be. I had to eventually buy a bed for him out of my personal tips (since I refused to share a bank account) and I paid for the hotels. He yelled at me later because I’d run out of money which were spent on *his* hotel nights.

He forced me to throw out my clothes at the time and I knew if I stayed in the house he’d not get near me. Because he was that sort of person. So I stayed with him.

We ended up sleeping in the car. He forced me out of the passenger seat, which was more comfortable so he could sleep in it. I slept on the floor of the apartment when he threw out the previous bed.

He whined later on that he wanted to stay only in hotels.

In another words, he fell in love with me because I could provide him with money. But this was far from the worst of what he did. I later found out that it could get much, much worse than this.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

The First Convention

19 Feb

My boyfriend liked going to conventions. Anime ones and Science Fiction conventions in general. If I didn’t want to go then he would complain to me. In his mind if I didn’t go then he said I didn’t like him. I told him we didn’t have to like *all* of the same things. He later changed this statement to, “It’s more fun with you.” This was another kind of threat in a sense.

The first convention we went to, I was curious about. Before the convention he complained about how the convention wasn’t as it was before and how there was this *best* convention ever some years back. From a simple psychology it was when he could feel important by talking to the guests of the convention.

At the time I was trying to figure out how to get a bank account. I had absolutely no clue which banks were good or not good. I didn’t want to put my money where it wasn’t good. I didn’t want to fall into the trap of having fees either. I’d ask my parents and despite them having a bank account, they would say, “I don’t know, just look around.” I would ask them what to look for… and they wouldn’t give me a sense of anything. My Dad would say, “Ask your mom.” But my Mom, as I later found out, knew very little about how the world works. So I spent quite a few months relying on my boyfriend to cash the checks I got from Starbucks.

At the convention, he wanted me to cash one of my checks so he could “borrow” the money. I would not let him take the money directly. We found out that we could do this by going to a particular grocery store. I said I could go alone. He wouldn’t let me. We walked for several hours in the heat because he didn’t want to pay for a cab or anything like that and he started yelling at me. I was doing him a favor and he instead yelled at me for the fact I didn’t have a bank account. He wasn’t exactly helping in my search for a bank either.

I wasn’t one to sit quietly and I started yelling back at him. We got the check cashed. He had the rule in place that I couldn’t go off on my own. I told him that I was an adult and I could meet him back at the hotel or meet him back at a particular place. We weren’t going to any particular places I wanted to go. I had my own badge.

I went to the hotel room and sat outside of it. He got mad at me for “wandering off” because I wasn’t allowed to “wander off.” We got into a huge argument about it. I said I would go home now. I wanted to break up. He emotionally blackmailed me by saying that if I went home what would my parents think? I would be a failure then, wouldn’t I? I’d already gone back twice. So he echoed the words my Mom used with me. This hit home. When we went back I started to pack, but he apologized again. Because he’d hit home and I didn’t want to be labeled a failure by my parents, again I stayed. This was the second time of packing up and reconciling with him. I found out later that my power to do this diminished over time.

He spent the next few months using this incident as leverage. When he was generally upset about something, he would yell about this. He would point out that I did this to him and this was very, very wrong thing to do. That his mother told him so. I called my mom a few times to complain about him wanting me to stay 10 feet of him at all times because I didn’t know if it was normal or not but she did not support me. So I took this too as normal. Since she wasn’t listening to me and instead converted any conversation to how I wasn’t worth anything unless I went to college, I started to swallow this part inside of me and didn’t tell her about it again. Fulfilling her sense of outside appearance to her friends was more important than this. She once told me that her friend’s children were out of college now and that my brother was in college. She couldn’t get off of it even for a subject like this.

Since there was no one to tell me that this was wrong and in fact more people to tell me I was wrong, my self-affirmation that this behavior was wrong went down the tubes. I began to ignore myself more and more after this point. I would have to hit absolute rock bottom that I didn’t know I had inside of me to get out of this never ending pit.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

A Week

19 Feb

My schedule with Starbucks was never the same two weeks in a row. My boyfriend said that I should take night shifts. So I did take night shifts which meant him picking me up. He of course, later complained about me taking night shifts because he had to pick me up. I would work the day staring at the clock waiting for the shift to be over. I hated Starbucks as a job because when I worked there I wasn’t sure which customer was going to complain and because I was Asian, or perhaps in my mind because I was Asian, I wouldn’t be able to say anything back. I felt every comment too deeply.

I would get home, exhausted, smelling of coffee, coffee grounds and collapse. My day was basically filled with going to and from that job and collapsing in a heap.

The air conditioner only worked 5 feet in front of it, so I spent my day with my legs up on the couch leg waiting for either to go to the job or my boyfriend to come home. I couldn’t open the windows because there were bugs outside and if I opened the windows that meant that my boyfriend would throw a tantrum and start yelling at me or whatever, leaving me to calm him down. I would watch mainly day time television because I wasn’t allowed to turn on my computer. In the beginning I used his computer, but even though I used floppy disks on his computer if anything went wrong with his computer, he would yell at me that it was my fault. I didn’t take this lying down and would tell him he was being paranoid. There was no possible way a Word file could corrupt his computer. I also told him to back up his files.

If I was home before dinner, I would call him to ask him what he’d like for dinner. This was one of those rock and a hard place kinds of questions. If I didn’t call he’d blame me for his weight, his upset stomach (which I think was from self-induced stress), and complain that he didn’t want whatever I was cooking for dinner. I’m a good cook. I cooked tings like Japanese curry from scratch. Tomato sauce from scratch. I cooked lots of things. He insisted on having high amounts of sugar in them. And despite the variety of things I cooked he’d thank me, but then he would occasionally say he was “tired of my cooking.” If I didn’t call he would also get upset. If I called he gave me a hard time and said he was busy. He said I shouldn’t call him at work. I would ask him when I should call him then. He would always say, “I don’t know.” which meant I shouldn’t call him at all. So either way I was out of luck.

This filled my week. He gave me a hard time for having to pick me up when I said I could take the bus. He gave me a hard time for not calling him. He gave me a hard time for calling him. He gave me a hard time when I asked him to call me back. Starbucks gave me a hard time mentally and physically.

I am 5’6″ and 130-140 pounds. He told me if I got fat he’d leave me. He said it as a joke, but he repeated it so many times. I ignored him and did as I liked.

So I was half baking and always hungry. We couldn’t eat our own individual meals most of the time because he wouldn’t allow it.

When Thursday hit, he did book readings for the kids. But I’ve related on how he was more focused on feeling popular than feeding his girlfriend whom he forbid to eat before because we must eat together. Yet, I’d eat at 9:00 or 10:00 and be trying to save money by not eating a big lunch.

When Saturday hit, he was determined to spend over 100 bucks each week on toys and other things from Japanese stores. He didn’t want to stay home. He always complained to me that we never got enough done. If I didn’t go with him, he’d get upset at me because we were supposed to do everything together–except when I wanted to do something, then I was on my own. In fact, he’d put off anything I wanted to do for months, even if it was critical. He once spent 150 dollars and borrowed money from his mother for a toy. (He was not younger than me he was quite a bit older than me…)

On Sundays he would call his mother. I think he spent most of the time complaining to her and talking about me. He’d never let me talk to her over the phone even if I asked if I could He’d always say, “Oh it’s OK.” I would give up after a while. This factor led to her having a poor opinion of me. She said that she thought I had no respect for my elders. But then she never talked to me at all.

As time went on these things would escalate more and more. I became more miserable at Starbucks. I wasn’t allowed to complain about it. Only he could complain about it. He gave me a hard time no matter what I did. I was not allowed to wander. I was not allowed to call him at work. I was supposed to call him at work. I could not go anywhere without calling him to tell him where I was. I was not allowed to go off on my own anywhere in town unless it was the library or close by. I was to turn on the air conditioner at certain times and turn it off at certain times. If I failed this, I got yelled at or chided or made fun of. I could not talk to his mother even though we were living together. He was allowed to spend 150 dollars of *his* money on toys, yet when I bought a 500 dollar box set out of my tips which I’d been saving for well over 6 months as a Birthday present to myself he got upset at me.

And so the rules mounted. You cannot, you shall not. But the more rules there were, the more they contradicted themselves. You cannot go anywhere without calling me. You called me at work, you aren’t supposed to call me. You cannot walk on your own because you must be saying bad things about me. Why don’t you have friends and go out more?

When I went to please myself, he got upset. When I pointed out the contradictions, he got upset. No matter what I did I was wrong. When I tried to please him, I lost myself, got depressed and he’d still get upset at me.

But this was my average week. Waiting for a time bomb to explode only to find it had reset again.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

First Anniversary

19 Feb

My days were spent trying not to make the time bomb go off. I spent inordinate amounts of time trying to figure my boyfriend out so he wouldn’t do to me what he did. He would throw things against the wall. He once broke a remote, which was his own remote.

By our first anniversary I’d tried to break up with him three times. He’d blackmailed me every single time. Once he tried to break up with me and I was upset with him, got ready to pack and then he asked for forgiveness. He later told me he got back with me out of “pity” using the same line from the convention. It stung me just in the right places to keep me with him.

I didn’t leave at this point because I was wearing down quickly. I’m pretty strong minded, but being told that if I left I was a failure from everyone I knew and not being able to get friends because of his restrictions, I was left in a lurch. I could leave an accept that label of a failure and be harassed by my parents (in my own psychology), or I could work it out and stay.

Our first anniversary, itself, was sweet, but for me, it was in the list of humiliations. At the time I loved him. I honestly felt that way, but no matter what I did he would say I had to wait for him to love me back. He’d blame this on previous girlfriends whom he talked about a lot. I would let him at first because I thought it was amusing, and then because I had no choice. If I said anything at all in the middle of his story he’d say, “I listen to you…” But I never talked about my previous crushes or boyfriend.

I told him I loved him after one year. He told me that he didn’t. I took out my frustrations by packing my things and asking people if this was normal. By this point my subconscious had enough. It was fed up with him and started trying to send dreams about how much it hated him. Dreams like not being able to climb the hill. Sending dreams like how real relationships should go. But since my dreams are most of the time cognitive dreams, I would cut them off before they started, leading to interrupted sleep.

But this escalated to its full peak at the Moth incident. I don’t think I’m proud of my behavior since I let myself be used and my motivations for it were not stellar.

My boyfriend had a big thing about bugs. He would freak out if he saw one hole in his t-shirt collar. Sometimes he’d go on long rampages. My clothes never got holes. Only his did. When my clothes got holes the size of a pin, I did what most people do… I didn’t care and if I did care I’d go and sew it up again.

Well, he got fed up with this to high heaven. He went to Target. Of course I had to go with him. He bought something like 3 of the moth hanging things to put in his laundry box, two in the closet, He tried to get me to buy some for myself, but I refused. I told him straight out when I read the packaging, which is my habit for absolutely everything, that he shouldn’t do this. He, in his anger (which somehow caused moments of memory loss), said it didn’t matter. He bought the three, used the three. I used none.

Those moth hanging things turn the crystals in them into gas. The gas goes into the clothes and leaves crystals. Just like the packaging said, which I read out loud to him, he got an allergic reaction to them. He got a high fever, a rash, and almost went into anaphalactic shock.

I told him what it was after I deduced it was the moth stuff since this happened a week after. I, basically, by telling him this, saved his life.

Well, after this, it caused great stress for him and he refused to stay in the house, which admittedly had little ventilation at all. He would get rashes just touching nothing he thought was infected with the gas. Even after we cleaned all of the clothes, including mine about 6 or 7 times, aired them out for three days, he still wasn’t satisfied and we had to throw them out. I objected the best I could, but he had that threat in his eyes that he wouldn’t come within three feet of me unless I threw them out.

I’d proudly saved over 1,000 dollars in tips. It was money I earned with my own hands, my own body and my own misery. He insisted in dipping into it as much as possible. All of that money I saved in that week of his allergic reaction disappeared. We had to stay in *good* hotels without any noise. We could not cook food. When the money ran out he paid one night to my 4 nights of hotel stays and then used my aunt and Uncle for the remainder of the week. When I felt guilty about mooching off of my Aunt and Uncle and I told him it wasn’t right to do so, we slept in the car outside of the apartment. I liked the passenger side of the car. It was more comfortable. He managed to take it over the second night by insisting we switch.

We threw away the bed. I was the one that had to buy a new one because he refused to. H wouldn’t pay for half of it either. I paid for the whole thing. In total, that week I lost over 1,000 dollars trying to stay touchable for him and then another 500 dollars for the bed he ended up choosing even though I was paying for it.

It is not my finest moment because he yelled at me for spending that money on *him* and his hotel bills. Despite all of this, he still found it compelling to especially spend more on toys that week. I did do a lot of it out of pure kindness, but in some way I was wishing he would love me. And in a twisted way, once I exhibited I could spend money on him, that’s when he thought I was selfless and worthy of his love.
Po

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life

 

Is this Normal?

19 Feb

I called my Mom to ask if it was normal that my boyfriend wanted me to trail behind him like he did. I was starting to feel swallowed whole. I complained about it. But it was like she didn’t really listen, though she heard what I had to say. Instead, she ignored my words and said, “What are you going to do if you come home then?”

She took this as a point to complain about my Dad and talk about fantasizing about divorcing him. That shocked me out of my own troubles.

Sadness and anger welled up in me as I hung up the phone. All I had to do was endure it. It had to be normal since she took no exception to it. I had no strength at this point to get out on my own without someone to say it was alright to leave. My own self and emotions were swallowed whole.

This is the point I realized in part, at least subconsciously, that I could not rely on her and all she really did was leave the sour taste of disappointment when I even tried to rely on her just a little.

 
Comments Off

Posted in Love Life, Parenting, Parents

 
 
This blog is protected by Dave\'s Spam Karma 2: 22 Spams eaten and counting...